


Coming Home

by Little_vesuvius



Series: Finding Home [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Briony Baggins, Developing Relationship, Dwarf Courting, Feels Outlet Turned Fic, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Friends to Lovers, Future Dwarrow relationships with Hobbits, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I needed a fix it so I wrote one, Multi, Non-Canonical Valar, Time Travel Fix-It, Weird Hobbit Courting Traditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:04:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4633224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_vesuvius/pseuds/Little_vesuvius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the long time-travel fix it story that is the sequel to Home is Where the Heart Is.  If you haven't read that one, this one may confuse you with a lot of what it references.  </p><p>Briony and Thorin have been given a second chance to save Erebor and Middle-Earth with a little bit of help, and now it's time for them to make good on this chance.  How they do it?  Well...that's up to them to decide, but it'll take them quite awhile.  And they have to figure out how to become a family along the way.</p><p>Edit: I am working on many, many stories at once and I have written over 100k over the last year or so. I'm trying to format all of it so i can post the first chapters of new stories and I'm still sorting through the inspiration. Not to worry, nothing is on hiatus anymore; I am just really good at starting way too many projects, and I moved this summer. Also, I'm trying to transfer all of my ideas into Scrivener. Nothing is abandoned, I'm just distracted and I have over 50 things I'm writing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Just getting this chapter edited took me nearly a month-it got really long, so I had to cut a lot of useless stuff to find a balance. When I first wrote this, it was a feels outlet after watching BOTFA because that movie, as non-canonical as it was, broke my heart. 
> 
> I don't own the Hobbit or any of Tolkien's work. As in the last story, credit for the ideas behind Linking go to LizzeXX, and her Mating and Linking processes, in the Lunar Cycle and Heart of Time Saga (both Doctor Who stories).

* * *

 

The next morning, Briony awoke to the sound of birds chirping and singing of the new morning, feeling safe and warm despite knowing she was sleeping in the garden.  For the first time in a very long time, she was whole.

As she slowly pulled herself back to the waking world, she could feel Thorin’s warm, firm body pressed against her back, his strong blacksmith’s arms holding her against his chest.  Surprisingly, she didn’t feel constricted with the way he was holding her, only warm and safe, like nothing could touch her while she was in his arms.

For so many years she had longed for this, grieving her loss for decades after his death.  She would have given anything and everything to have this back, and she was not going to ruin this. If they awoke like this every morning for the rest of their lives, she would be the happiest Hobbit in the world.

Thorin. Her Link.  _Her_ Link. Briony felt something warm curl around her chest at the thought, and she felt herself smiling, snuggling a little closer to him and ignoring the very male portion of anatomy poking her in the leg.  A little morning wood wasn’t going to frighten her away.

For a few blessed moments, Briony had the chance to savor her time in Thorin’s arms, listening to the chirping and humming filling her yard.

Then she heard a branch snap as a bird lifted off and the whistling of her neighbor, rudely calling her out of the blissful peace of the morning. Against her back, Thorin shifted, tensing, his short-shorn beard brushing against her cheek as he loosened his grip. She felt one of his ears catch fire almost immediately as he started to pull away, but Briony stopped him by turning around in his arms and smiling at him in a way her Baggins family would call very Tookish.

“Briony,” his voice was a low rumble this morning, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “I am sorry…” he began.

Briony shook her head “You have nothing to apologize for, Thorin.” Thorin stared at her, mouth open in surprise with half of his loose hair tangled in the grass, now that she could really see him. “Really,” she continued, “It is no stain on my honor or yours.  That we slept like this is normal, for a newly Linked couple, and I trust you. This desire isn’t dishonorable either, especially not when if I was wearing a thinner shirt you would see it reflected in kind,” she finished, flushing.

Thorin’s surprise was almost palatable, given how quickly it overtook his expression, and then it melted into a warm, inviting smile “I had forgotten how little frightened you, my Hobbit,” he said, reaching up to brush a few strands of grass from her curls. “And how practical you are.”

Briony smiled, leaning in to press her lips to his cheek “I enjoyed waking up like this,” she said, resting her head against his collarbone “If we could wake like this every morning, for the rest of my life, I would be the happiest Hobbit alive.”

“And you deserve nothing less,” he said, giving her a tight, warm hug that made her melt against him again. 

She wanted to stay like this for the rest of the day, alone and unbothered, as was custom for newly Linked couples. 

But they couldn’t.  The Company would be arriving soon, and she knew the Dwarrow would have Thorin under a close watch, along with her, if they were to be courting.  Which meant they had only today together, and not much of today, judging by the angle of the sun.

She sighed, pulling away regretfully “Much as I hate it, we have to get everything ready today.  Gandalf visited me yesterday morning.  As you know, the Company arrives today.”

Thorin grimaced “Must you mention him _now_?” he groaned, and Briony chuckled.

She was soon joined by Thorin, whose rich, deep chuckles made his entire chest rumble under her hands.

“I wish we could stay like this for the rest of the morning,” said Briony, “But the market closes around noon, and we need the ingredients for a feast. The last thing we need is a repeat of last time around.”

The Link widened suddenly, pain stabbing through them both, and Thorin went rigid for a moment as the pain doubled back through them both. Then it changed, broadcasting _love-warmth-affection-guilt-apprehension_ with a little bit of _shame_ mixed in.

“Hey,” Briony said gently, reaching out to stroke his cheek, and Thorin tensed, but he met her eyes. “Thorin.  Last time was a long time ago,” she whispered, “and I forgive you for what happened. It may have been your fault, but- _look_ at me, you stubborn Dwarf,” he met her eyes hesitantly, “It was my fault as much as it was yours, going behind your back like that.  I only brought it up because I’d rather be a good host this time around.”

Thorin shook his head, the emotions fading a little as he brought himself under control “It-will take me awhile,” he admitted “to forgive myself. The Lady Niénna counseled it, but…”

Briony nodded “I know,” she whispered, swallowing against the heavy feeling in her chest. “So.  How about we start this morning off right?” she offered, and Thorin’s eyebrows went up in surprise as the Link narrowed again, searing pain echoing through her chest again.

“How?” he asked, when the pain had faded.

Briony smiled, leaning forward to close the distance between them. Her forehead pressed against his “I think you know,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath of air “If you do not mind morning breath.”

Thorin needed no further invitation, shifting so that she was lying atop him, pressed against his firm, muscular chest as he leant in to close the gap between them.  The first kiss between newly Linked Hobbits was supposed to be the best feeling in the world; she’d heard it was like flying.  But to Briony it was more than that; her hands tangled in Thorin’s hair, the two of them rolling to the side as the kiss deepened.  She was _soaring_.

After about a minute, they broke apart, both flushed and gasping for air, and the Link was wide open, pain and pleasure intermingling as they smiled, one for the moment.  Briony laughed, feeling like she had just come of age again, and Thorin joined her after a moment, with a deep, low rumbling laugh that vibrated against her chest.

“As much as I love lying here with you,” said Briony after a moment “My arm is falling asleep, and I’m afraid I have to make breakfast.” Her stomach growled the moment after, and Thorin tried not to smirk at her. “Let me up, please,” for he was now atop her, braced on either side of her with his arms to keep from crushing her with his weight.

“But I like having you here,” he said, his voice lower and a little throaty.

“Let me _up_ ,” laughed Briony, swatting at his left arm, and Thorin released her, sitting up with a wince as she did so. “Come on.  The nearest bathroom is three doors down to the left.”

Thorin surprised her by leaning in for a second kiss, making her knees wobble as she scooted in a little and used him for support.  His eyes were dark when they parted, but he was smiling in a way that made her go weak in the knees.  _This_ was the Thorin she wanted to return so badly, the Dwarf who, between being a cantankerous, crotchety, grouchy Dwarf, and a majestic warrior, had managed to capture her heart and the other end of her Link, too.

Then he turned and walked off down the hall, leaving her to admire him as he went, for a moment.  His shoulders were broad and really, quite nice to admire, as was the rest of him-broad, stocky and muscular, and this time, she could admire him as openly as she wanted. Briony caught herself staring and shook her head, smiling; it was already shaping up to be a much better timeline than the last time around, all thanks to Eru.  Silently, she sent up a prayer of thanks to the Valar and the One for sending her cantankerous old Dwarf back to her.  Without him here, she wasn’t sure she would be successful. She certainly wouldn’t have been able to manage keeping her secret with the Link being what it was.

The Link hadn’t widened again, not since the garden, but she had no doubt it would keep doing so as the day went on.  With a skip in her step, Briony headed for the kitchen and put away what she had used last night, after cleaning what needed to be cleaned out. Writing a quick note in Westron for Thorin to read, she headed to her own private washroom, rinsing out her short hair and toweling it dry to remove the dirt, grass, and leaves it had collected.

She undressed and washed what remained of the incense from her skin as well, as it smelled and wouldn’t go with the smell of breakfast this morning, either. After a moment of perusal, she combined a pair of brown trousers with a nice blue coat and a white button-down shirt, as it was not quite chilly yet but it was still autumn. It was better than a dress, even if it was improper.

By the time Thorin emerged from the bathroom, smelling cleaner than he had been when he arrived on her doorstep last night, she had prepared bacon, sausages, eggs, and an assortment of fruit for breakfast.  The eggs had been beaten with milk, spices, and a few vegetables she had noticed Thorin eating from Beorn’s table the first time around.

Thorin’s eyes went to her first, and then to the food “I had forgotten you ate like this,” he said, sitting down at the table as she finished cleaning the cooking utensils.

His eyes lit up at the sight of the platter of blackberries, and he hesitated, silently asking her for permission.  Briony nodded and he took the entire platter, popping a few into his mouth and chewing with a soft smile on his face that she recognized.

Briony shrugged “Well, it’s not exactly travel fare, and none of these things will keep anyway, so I thought it best to help clear the pantry and make a decent breakfast at the same time.  Besides, I rather like grapefruit and blackberries myself.” Thorin eyed the grapefruit as if it were a strange thing about to leap out and attack. “It’s a very sour fruit, much like lemons and oranges.”

“Ah,” Thorin nodded “I don’t believe I’ve eaten them before.”

Briony shrugged, “More for me, if you don’t like them.  Their juice is very sour, but I love it. They grow very well in the winter, in cool, dry climates.  If you like them, we could grow some in Erebor, after we reclaim it.”

Thorin smiled, reaching for one of the several halves of grapefruit “I suppose I will have to try one first won’t I?” he asked, before pausing “How exactly am I supposed to eat this?”

Then the full meaning of her words hit him, and he stared, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open.  He was also frozen where he was, shock and amazement hitting her through the Link as it widened again, with a stab of pain.  The shock and amazement then vanished, in a sense, changing into something warmer and softer.  

Briony just tried not to laugh at his expression, which asked the question she could answer with her own. He didn’t know if he would make it-if _they_ would make it, truly, but she believed they would. She’d helped retake it once.

And this time she would ensure it was retaken properly, with her whole family alive to celebrate it at the end.

“Like this,” Briony demonstrated in answer, using her spoon to scoop out a piece of the sour fruit. “Though it helps if you gently slice the pieces apart with a knife, which I already did.”

Thorin copied her, though a little more clumsily, and grapefruit juice sprayed him in the nose.  He scowled at the grapefruit, and at Briony, who was hiding her giggling rather poorly. Then he took a bite of the grapefruit, and his expression went from scowling to…she couldn’t quite read it, but she was certain it wasn’t one of disgust.

Then he took another bite, chewing more slowly, and managed to wipe off the juice from his nose.  Briony raised an eyebrow; well, that was new.  Usually he would have commented.

“The more you eat it, the better it tastes,” Thorin said, taking a sip of water and scowling “Urgh, that tastes funny.”

Briony grinned “So does that mean you like it?” Thorin growled playfully and swiped three of the halves of grapefruit “We import them from the settlements of Men near the Blue Mountains.  I’m not sure Dwarrow eat them, to be honest.”

“We usually don’t,” Thorin said, swallowing another bite “But that’s more due to a dislike of change among many of the older generations.” Briony snickered “That, and some of my people really _don’t_ like vegetables.  I honestly don’t understand the dislike of berries, myself, but some vegetables are disgusting.”

Briony shook her head “I see why you and the Elves have such problems getting along.” Thorin scowled at her, but moments later broke into a quiet laugh, digging into the second piece of grapefruit. “Here, if you do this, you get more of the juice out of it,” she demonstrated again, using her spoon to catch the juice.

Thorin copied her almost immediately, squeezing every last drop of juice out of the grapefruit.  It was adorable and amusing to watch him, so she kept an eye on him all throughout breakfast after the grapefruit and blackberries were gone.  Most of the blackberries had been eaten by Thorin, as he really loved them. 

As Thorin savored the last piece of the bacon, Briony said “My pantry is mostly stocked, but there are some things I would _love_ to cook for you all that you never ate the last time, and I can’t make enough food for thirteen Dwarrow without a few ingredients from market.”

Thorin finished his piece of bacon in silence, and then offered “My grandmother taught me how to cook.  If you would not object…” he trailed off, looking nervous.

“Truly?” asked Briony, surprised.

Most Hobbits never offered to help cook for a group of guests, unless they were part of the family.  Even then, most often it was the host’s job, not one of the guests’ to help, but she was going to be hard-pressed for time and Thorin’s help would be appreciated.

“My grandmother taught me, hoping to keep me from developing the poor skills of my grandfather,” said Thorin with a soft smile.

“Well,” Briony paused “I _had_ planned on spending the whole day cooking, but I’d love some help. I don’t know what we need, though, so I’ll need you to look through the pantry.”

“Of course,” he replied, “May I?” he gestured to the pantry, and Briony nodded.

Thorin rose from his seat, clearing his dishes to the sink without being asked, and Briony went to the sink to begin washing. “The pantry is there, but it’s rather large.  Please try not to get lost.”

“Says the Hobbit who got lost inside Erebor,” grumbled Thorin, teasing her right back as he went into the pantry.

Briony giggled at his retreating back, watching him go again before she got to work.  She loved this less formal version of her Dwarf, even if he was trying to-Briony froze, gasping in pain as the Link widened with a rush, enveloping her in amusement, guilt, and love again. 

She’d have to experiment with how much they shared later. There was no sense in startling him into destroying her pantry or breaking anything.

“You wouldn’t happen to have saffron?” called Thorin.

“It doesn’t grow in the Shire, so we import it,” she called back, “It’s in the blue bundle tied shut with twine.  Careful with it!  I only have a little!”

As she worked, intermittently answering Thorin’s questions, she thought back to the rules she had to follow. The note had been very explicit in what she could _not_ do around people that didn’t know what was going on.  They couldn’t speak of anything regarding the alternate timeline except in roundabout terms and definitely could not explicitly admit they were from the future. If they did that, then the second chance would be considered null and void.

Which meant they only really had today to plan out the first leg of their journey, and maybe more of it if she was careful with how they used their time. While she already had a plan for dealing with the Trolls, since they had succeeded on pure luck last time, she didn’t want to have to speak in roundabout terms about the _entire_ journey while they were trying to plan things out.

She dried another plate, setting it back in the cupboard as she kept thinking. What else could they change, other than the obvious?  They couldn’t do too much or things wouldn’t resemble the original timeline and they’d be flying blind, but at the same time she didn’t relish in the idea of getting captured in Mirkwood with no help.  But then, Eru hadn’t exactly been _specific_ in who he was sending to help them.  It was possible they had more help than she thought, given how vague the wording of the letter was.

That wouldn’t do them any good if they got detained in Rivendell. She really didn’t want to see Saruman ever again, but would he notice?  He might, and that would be dangerous.  They would have to avoid him just to be certain. 

And Galadriel.  The Lady of Light had been present at the White Council, arrogant as they were, and she was able to speak into and see into others’ minds.  Briony and Thorin were protected from such intrusions by the Link, but others might not be.  If she chose to detain them or question them, they’d have a much harder time getting out of Rivendell.

At least the Valar had ensured that they wouldn’t be able to talk about what happened to them with anyone who didn’t already know around. It would make explaining their age gap a bit awkward for their children, but it would at least prevent the Enemy from finding out ahead of time.  Even his power didn’t supersede the powers of the Sky Mother or the rest of the Valar.

She’d just finished drying her hands when Thorin returned from the pantry, looking for a piece of parchment.  Briony pulled out the list she had made yesterday morning and the quill that her mother had been given when she was a much younger Hobbit.

Briony handed over the quill “If you make a mistake with the list, retrace your mistake with the quill and touch the tip of the quill to the first stroke. It will bleed the ink back up through the tip, and please be careful.  It was a gift given to my mother.”

Thorin took the pen from her gently with a nod, dipping it into the inkwell she kept in the kitchen cabinet.  He glanced at what she already had written, finding a few of the missing ingredients they’d discovered over the course of his search.  Then he added a few to the list. 

He handed the list to her when he’d finished.

Briony glanced over the twelve things he’d written.  His handwriting was not nearly as inelegant as Dwalin’s or Balin’s, and looked a lot like hers, except that he used fewer curls and wrote with bolder, blockier strokes.  Only three of the ingredients were spices, but she couldn’t make out the last one, which looked like it was in phonetic Khuzdûl, though the rest were in Westron.

She frowned “We have all of these at market except this,” she pointed to it “I’m not sure where we might find that,” and it wasn’t one of the words she had learned through the Link or over the years with the help of her friends. “I’m sorry, Thorin,” said Briony, “I can’t read this.” She pointed to the ingredient “I’m not that familiar with Khuzdûl, even with the Link, at the moment.”

“It’s-I’ve forgotten its name in Westron,” Thorin admitted, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s been so long since I had the chance to use it. It is a cousin of saffron and I will know it by scent.  My grandmother loved candles made from its leaves.”

Briony nodded, “Well, the spice merchant is here this morning, but _only_ for about another hour. If you’re ready to leave?”

“Do we need anything else?” Thorin replied, and was treated to a near-impish smile as Briony shook her head, blowing on the list to ensure it was dry, and folding the parchment carefully.

Thorin shook his head, “You never cease to surprise me, _miz duzkak_.  It _is_ dry, is it not?”

“That’s the beauty of this quill, the ink dries in seconds,” said Briony, “See? I really should look into how this was made.  I think we’ll need it for paperwork once we retake Erebor.”

Thorin paused for a moment, and then shook his head, turning it so she couldn’t see the way his lips twitched.  He looked like he was trying not to smile at her confidence. His iron-toed boots clomped on the floor as they headed to the front door, and he paused to eye his weapons and then the door.

“Two or three knives should be enough,” said Briony, slipping a few into her clothes “No more.  We are in Hobbiton, not on the road and certainly not in Bree.”

Thorin huffed “I don’t like walking anywhere unarmed,” he said, taking the knives and a throwing axe as well, though he probably thought she didn’t see that. “Too many chances for a surprise attack.”

“I’m not going anywhere unarmed, and neither are you,” replied Briony, as he slid his knives and axe into places that they were easily reached but hard to see “I would really rather not frighten off all our merchants, though. The neighbors, well,” she shrugged “they’ve never had anything kind to say about me anyway.  Your glare is probably enough to make some of them wet their trousers.”

Thorin scowled “I doubt that actually works.  It certainly didn’t on you.” He followed her outside, and the moment the two of them stepped outside, she felt eyes on her.

“I’m not most Hobbits,” said Briony with a shrug “I also don’t back down easily.  It’s both a Baggins and a Took trait, and a Brandybuck trait come to think of it, and I’m related to all three families.”

Thorin snorted, shaking his head “If you were any less who you are, I would not have fallen in love with you.” He could clearly feel the eyes on them, though, because as she passed him he muttered “I do not like this.”

“Like I said, I’ll explain later,” muttered Briony “Security reasons and all that, you must understand.” She raised her voice “And if you were any less stubborn, I doubt I would be where I am right now with you. Besides, I’ll order them off if they keep staring.  It’s _rude_ to stare at a newly Linked couple, even if they are a Hobbit and a Dwarf.”

And they weren’t following the rules, either, but they didn’t have the time to follow all Hobbit traditions of courting.  Besides, some of the things newly Linked couples did were things that she and Thorin had done automatically, like sorting through each others’ memories as they passed through the Link.

She felt a few of the eyes move off them after she said that, and Thorin shook his head.

His voice lightened as he said “And you will, too.” This was accompanied by a faint sense of annoyance “You take too many chances with your own safety as it is.”

“Well, can you blame me?” she asked, winking at him “Without taking chances, no one would have any fun.” She tugged on Thorin’s arm, “Come on, we’d best get moving if we want to catch the spice merchant.”

“Then may I, my lady queen?” Thorin asked, offering her his arm, which surprised her. 

The teasing glint in his eyes was tempered by something that looked much more serious.  Was he…well, if this silly Dwarf was asking to marry her, then of _course_ she would say yes.  Briony took his arm with a grin.

“You may, my lord king,” Thorin’s answering almost-smile made her day brighten considerably, as they walked arm-in-arm down the path toward Hobbiton’s market.  She waved at the first Hobbit they saw “Good morning Master Gamgee!  Good morning, Miss Bracegirdle!” The third Hobbit was staring with his mouth slightly open “Good morning, Hal!”

She could sense a twinge of jealousy from Thorin, but only a twinge. Still, she would probably feel the same way if his relatives and other Dwarrow were staring at him as the men of the Shire (and some of the women) often stared at her.

She nudged him “Quit grumping at them, silly Dwarf, and wave! You’ll be considered a discourteous guest otherwise!” 

Thorin’s answering small smile made her knees wobble again, and she knew he knew it, because now he had an excuse to steady her with his free hand. “Then I shall remain a discourteous guest,” he replied “for I doubt I will get any approval from them in the first place.”

“You-oh,” Briony laughed “What ever am I going to do with you?” Thorin started moving in the wrong direction “No, not that way!  That’s the way to the Party Tree, and it’s still a mess from the last party to be held there,” she said.

Thorin nodded, seeming to understand. “From your end,” he said hesitantly “I was under the impression our current position was improper by Hobbit standards.”

“Hang Hobbit propriety,” said Briony with a shrug “I stopped caring for it years ago.  Respectability means so very little in comparison to blunt honesty, friendship, love, honor, and trust. And if our position is honorable in Dwarven society, that’s good enough for me.”

Thorin’s blush was barely noticeable, as his ears were covered by his long hair, but the Link widened with a stab of pain, betraying _embarrassment-happiness-warmth-affection-love_. She blushed a little, too, though hers was much more noticeable. 

“One might think,” ventured Thorin “That you were referring to one of us in particular, rather than the entire Company.”

“And if I was, would you consider that a good thing?” inquired Briony, surprised at her daring.  Thorin just stopped and stared at her, a fleeting expression of what might have been wonder crossing his face again. “Oh, no, not her,” she groaned, as they rounded the corner, her mood ruined immediately by the sight of the Hobbit striding their way.

The Hobbit marching up the path was dressed very appropriately, in a beautiful lavender summer dress, her graying dark curls pinned up into a braided bun behind her head.  Her stern eyes were focused on Briony and Thorin, and she had a large umbrella in one hand, which she seemed to be using as a cane.  Her brow was furrowed and her mouth was set in a stern, firm, and disapproving line.

“Who?” murmured Thorin, glancing at the Hobbit, and almost doing a double-take, for she was marching quite silently. “Who is she?” Briony would have ducked down if her aunt hadn’t already seen her.

“It’s my aunt Mirabelle Baggins, my father’s sister,” explained Briony quietly, as they paused.  Thorin moved so that he was just slightly between her and the other Hobbit, a gesture that usually annoyed her “She’s very traditional, even by Baggins standards, and she’s never approved of me.  I don’t really want another lecture on how irresponsible I am being and how I need to find a proper Hobbit lad to fill my home with children.  I’m tired of hearing it, especially when I would much prefer my Dwarf King to any Hobbit she wants me to marry.”

Well, there was that, and she’d hardly been kind to Briony even before her quest, let alone after.  Bungo’s sister had never approved of the Hobbit he married, and his daughter was far too Tookish for Mira’s tastes.  It had hurt, knowing how much her own family disapproved of her, and even tried to stop her from gaining custody of dear young Frodo for her ‘madness.’  But she had learned to ignore it, and in time, so had Frodo.

Thorin was faintly amused at first, but as the Link widened, pain tearing through Briony like a dagger in her chest, the amusement faded into anger. “Then far be it from me not to scare her off,” he said, his voice low and angry, feelings wrapping Briony in a warm protective cocoon.

The moment her aunt got just a little closer to them, Thorin turned and met the Hobbit woman’s eyes with a cold expression he usually reserved for enemies.  Briony hadn’t even seen that look in his eyes when she had stolen the Arkenstone. Thorin’s face was grim and stern, warning her aunt off the moment the older Hobbit looked his way.

Briony glanced at her aunt’s face, only to see that the Hobbit had gone pale and was now trying to regain her composure.  Clearly, she had not expected that Briony would have an ally with her.

“Briony, dear,” greeted her aunt in a shaky voice, as Briony moved her arm so that she was now resting a calming hand on Thorin’s arm. “Good morning.”

“Indeed, it is a lovely morning, Aunt Mira,” greeted Briony with a smile, as the Link widened further, and a small amount of satisfaction crept into Thorin. “I’m going to market,” she said, “and if we are successful, you shan’t see me again except maybe for a little bit in maybe three years with my Link.” She was enjoying Mira’s shock, as the old Hobbit had tormented her for years.

“Link?” spluttered Mira, her gaze going back to Thorin again.

“Ah, forgive me,” said Briony, pretending she’d forgotten to introduce him, “Allow me to introduce my _romantic_ Link, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, of the Dwarrow of Erebor.  Thorin,” Mira was really pale now, and while secretly she approved, Briony couldn’t just let him bully her relatives “Please stop scowling, dear.  She is hardly Azog.”

“No, she reminds me more of a certain Dwarrowdam who seemed to be mistaken I would marry her, for duty and an alliance, which was quite unnecessary,” Thorin said, his tone slightly sharp, but his expression eased. “I disliked her enough to refuse her entry to my family.  If the rest of the Shire upsets you so, I will look forward to our journey.”

“Thorin,” Briony said, to regain his attention, and Thorin glanced at her, his expression softening “Before we _completely_ terrorize the Shire, we ought to get to market.  Besides, until now I had a Tookish reputation; all it does is enhance it and you know that.  Good morning, aunt,” she said, rather enjoying that she had the upper hand for once, leaving her aunt gaping after her.

The moment they were out of earshot of her aunt, Thorin said quietly “I overstepped my bounds, and I am sorry,” he did not feel guilty or ashamed, but he did feel embarrassed, “I am afraid I let my temper get the better of me.”

Briony tugged on one of his braids gently, “You didn’t overstep your bounds, and you have no reason to feel upset.  You handled yourself very well, actually,” she said, “until the end. _Very_ Hobbitish of you _, mac t_ _íre_ ,” she said with a grin, kissing him on the cheek. “It was very sweet of you to come to my defense like that.”

Thorin’s eyebrows went up a little and his eyes softened “I did not mean to scare her more than a little, but she hurt you.  She is supposed to be _kin_ , and yet it was obvious from her expression and what I…felt, that she sees you as nothing but an embarrassment.”

Briony winced “I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” she said softly, “I have grown used to that impression.”

“You should not have had to,” Thorin’s voice was a low rumble “They are supposed to be your kin, yet they see you as a shame.  They do not see your heart, nor your bravery,” he said, “and that…”

It made him angry.  Understandably so, in fact, but Briony was a little unused to having someone grow angry on her behalf; she had not had such a stout protector of her reputation until she was seventy and took in Frodo, and even he did not know all of it.

Smiling, she dropped her hand into his, and he let her interweave their fingers, callused, scarred hand rubbing against her smooth palm.

Briony smiled, brightening “Come on, then, let’s go to market. I’m sure you’ve scared her out of visiting me today, for which I am quite thankful.  She rather likes inviting herself in for tea most days when I least expect her, and criticizes everything I do in a way that makes it sound like a compliment.”

“Then I am glad we no longer have to worry of her presence,” said Thorin, looking at her intensely.

She was blushing again, and curse her fair skin for giving it away so easily. Thorin could make her blush more easily than anyone she knew.  Mahâl and Manwë above, they were still barely courting!  This courtship would probably proceed a lot more quickly than the Linking process did, given everything that had happened.

Briony forced herself away from that line of thinking, and turned towards the marketplace.  It was bustling, full of people, and haggling was going on in at least three different stalls that she could hear.

“Welcome to Hobbiton’s market,” she said, as Thorin was standing stock-still, taking it all in. “We’ve a lot to buy, and I expect I will need your help to carry it. Also, watch for fauntlings; you may find yourself with a few curious ones hanging off of you, even if you scowl at them. Also, watch for curious tweens-they try to pickpocket people.  Badly.”

Thorin shrugged his shoulders slightly, “Nori has already tried to pickpocket me, and so far has not succeeded,” he replied. “I will not threaten them, but I will not be nice if they try.”

“Of course, and I wouldn’t expect you to be,” said Briony with a grin “But fauntlings will be fauntlings and tweens will be tweens.  Briar should be around here somewhere.”

Traveling to Hobbiton’s market with a Dwarf was enough to part most crowds around her. If not for the fact that he was a Dwarf, which caused enough of a stir, Thorin was also quite tall for a Dwarf, and nearly the size of a short Man. He parted crowds very easily, since he was of a height with Fíli.  Briony smiled brightly at the Hobbits that stared at her, swinging her hand in Thorin’s without care for those who were watching, and feeling it tighten a little over hers.

“Good morning, Mistress Briar,” greeted Briony, as the spice merchant looked up. The poor Hobbit almost jumped out of her skin at the sight of Thorin, “Oh-I’m sorry, this is my good friend and Link, Thorin Oakenshield.  We have need of star anise, if you have any, cumin, and one more spice that is a cousin to saffron. It’s a Dwarven spice, but I’m afraid there isn’t a Westron name for it.”

Briar placed one hand over her heart, breathing a little easier “Gracious, you scared me, Master Oakenshield.  I had not expected to see a Dwarf in the Shire anytime soon, much less hand-in-hand with Miss Baggins.”

“I’ve told you, it’s _Briony_ ,” grumbled Briony.

“Then you _must_ call me Briar,” Briar shot back, and Briony smiled.

Thorin replied “Then I am sorry for startling you.  It is true, we do not usually travel into the Shire, but Briony is an exception.” The spice merchant looked between them, her eyes lighting up a bit.

 _“So he’s the one you meant, then,”_ said Briar, switching to the Windspeech.

Briony grinned “He is, but that’s rude-he doesn’t speak that language, so could we keep it in Westron, please?” Briar nodded.

“As for the spice you’re looking for, I have several spices that I am told are relatives,” she replied, “but I am afraid I don’t know what that is, either.  Not without knowing its name.  I do have cumin and star anise, though.”

Thorin glanced at the list, and shook his head “I know it by scent,” he said “But not by name.  My grandmother used it, however, to make candles.  It is common enough in mountainous regions, and Dwarrow make candles of that scent if they can find enough of the plant.”

Briar brightened “Ah!  I see,” she paused “I think I have three relatives of saffron traditionally used in Dwarven cooking.  Perhaps these three.” She reached into the shelves next to her, pulling down three small clay bowls for sampling. “Please, sniff, but be careful not to spill.”

Thorin rolled his eyes “Despite appearances, and rumors, we are as graceful as Elves, if we wish to be.”

Curiously, there was no infuriation or anger, just annoyance, when speaking of Elves. Something had changed during his years in Valinor, and Briony desperately wanted to know what, but he would tell her with time.  He glanced at her, and mouthed ‘later’ in Westron, as a promise.  Thorin sniffed the first one, then the second, and the third.

“This one,” he said, holding up the third one.

“How much do you need?  Given that Bombur has the spices and is one of the last to arrive, we can’t trust him to bring it, since we’ll need it earlier than that,” Briony mused, and Briar glanced between them, looking curious. “I am having company for dinner tonight. The Thàin already knows, since I highly doubt they will get past Buckland without accidentally informing him they’re there.  Speaking of Buckland, I need to visit the Master of Buckland on our way out,” she said to Thorin, “And give my cousin Primula a piece of her inheritance.  We will need to pass by Brandybuck Hall anyway to cross the Brandywine, if you remember.”

Thorin’s lips twitched, and he nodded “Am I to assume it has to do with avoiding particular trips on a certain waterway for a certain couple?”

Briony chuckled “Given that I plan to move into a Dwarven kingdom? It might.  You still haven’t answered the question,” she nodded towards Briar, realizing they had been speaking Sindarin instead of Westron.

“Eight ounces,” replied Thorin quietly, switching back seamlessly, “We don’t use it much, but the mixture goes rather well with star anise.”

Briar nodded “Well, the current price is reasonable given its source. We imported this spice from the Blue Mountains.” Thorin glanced at Briony for a moment, “From a merchant named Bana.”

“I know her,” said Thorin, “I am certain she gave you a reasonable price for it.” Briar looked surprised “My ancestral homeland is not the Blue Mountains, but it is where we dwell now.”

Briar’s eyebrows rose “Truly?  Then are you of Erebor?”

Thorin stiffened and looked at Briony, raising an eyebrow. Briony had more experience with Briar than Thorin, but in all her lifetime last time around she had heard next to nothing of Briar’s connection to Dwarrow or Erebor.  Then again, she had been so lost in her grief that she had neglected her friendship with the spice merchant last time around. Briar was one of the few in the Shire that believed Briony’s Link was outside the Shire, and she’d been right.

Not that Briony had been able to tell her as much, after everything that happened. Briar had tried to help her through her grief last time around, but then the Dwarrow of Belegôst had moved, and Briar had gone with them.  The last Briony had heard of it, Briar had married a Dwarf with a love for crafting metals and a beautiful voice, finding her own ‘happily ever after.’

This time would be different.   This time Briony would be there to retake Erebor and to rule it at Thorin’s side, to welcome Briar and the Dwarf she married into a very different society.

She nodded silently to Thorin, who smiled a little “I am,” he admitted quietly.

Briar bowed from the waist to him, smiling “Far be it from me to try and barter with one of the Dwarrow of Erebor,” she replied, winking at Briony “Far less their king.”

Both Briony and Thorin froze, and Briony glanced around them, listening for any Hobbitish gossip about a visiting royal.  Thankfully, nobody had noticed Briar’s slip.

Briony leant in and whispered “Don’t say anything, please. We’re trying not to broadcast it to the neighborhood, especially since we don’t need a massive party as a send-off.”

“Send-off?” Briar asked, surprised “Are you going somewhere then? I assumed that Master Oakenshield was just here for you.” Briony flushed, embarrassed, and Thorin joined her, the Link widening with its familiar tearing sensation in her chest.

Briony glanced at Thorin, sensing curiosity and wariness in waves hitting her and replied in Sindarin quietly “She’s trustworthy.  She doesn’t gossip like _most_ of my relatives, and isn’t nearly as annoying as the rest of the Shire.”

Thorin bit his tongue in an obvious effort to smother the laughter that threatened to escape, shaking his head slightly, turning back to Briar “Yes,” he said, once he had his laughter under control. “We are.  We will be receiving several visitors tonight, and departing tomorrow for a journey to our lost home.”

Briar’s eyes widened as Briony confirmed it with a nod, and she dipped her head respectfully “I had no idea,” she breathed, “You want to reclaim it? Surely you _know_ the dragon isn’t dead.”

“We do, and I’ve got a plan,” said Briony, surprising her Link with a smile. “We’ve planned for it if it comes down to that.  That drake will not sit in Erebor for long.”

Briar bit her lip “Be careful,” she wished to Briony, wrapping up a small packet of herbs, “For you.  For when you both need it,” Briony knew what it was the moment Briar handed it to her. “Send word when you’ve reclaimed your mountain,” she added, flushing a little “I know a certain Dwarf who’d be…very happy to know that that is the case.”

The same Dwarf she was Linked to, not that Briar would ever figure that out until Erebor was reclaimed.  Briony just wished she could remember the _name_ of that Dwarf Briar had talked about so much with her before leaving. Her memories weren’t that good.

Briony smiled, tucking the packet of herbs that would prevent pregnancy into her pocket “Thank you, Briar,” she replied. “You’ve always been one of my closer friends here in the Shire.  I’ll send word when I absolutely _know_ the Mountain is safe.”

Thorin nodded “You will always be welcome in Erebor, Briar,” he added, as she packaged up the Dwarven herb mixture for him.

Briar looked pleased as she handed him the mixture  “No matter,” the spice merchant waved them off “I won’t say anything to the old gossips.  Spread a few rumors, maybe, but never the truth,” there was a twinkle of mischief in her eye “I’d hardly be a Brandybuck if I didn’t, now, would I?”

That was heartening and brought a smile to Briony’s face.

“Please, give them heart attacks,” Briony teased back, making Briar chuckle. “We’ll be passing through Buckland tomorrow afternoon, so if you’re there you may see us.”

Briar’s lips turned upward before she could help herself, her whole face lighting up. Was she courting one of the Dwarrow of the Company? If so, that made a _lot_ more sense, especially since all of them had been given fairly important positions in Erebor once the drake had fallen and the new kingdom of Dwarvenkind was established there.

“Maybe I will,” Briar’s voice hitched a little, but she pressed on, giving them a kind smile and a wave “If I don’t, I wish you all the best. Send word once the drake’s gone, and I’ll come to visit!”

“You would be most welcome,” said Thorin, smiling.

Briony nodded, and so did Thorin, and they were off.  Haggling at the other stalls proved to be a little more of a challenge, though it was mostly because the Hobbits had witnessed Thorin haggling with the spice merchant.  Several gaped at Thorin’s presence in the market, and even more stared, though most of that was because he was arm in arm with the Hobbit known for being unattainable, but incredibly rich and eligible for marriage.   

Though Briony privately thought it was because several of the Hobbit ladies were jealous of how easily she had convinced Thorin to come to market and help carry what they had bought, which was enough to prepare food for thirteen hungry Dwarrow, a wizard, and a Hobbit.  Or perhaps because such actions showed just how heavily muscled her Dwarf was, and for many Hobbits, they preferred muscle to roundness.

By the time they had wrapped up, Thorin and Briony were no longer arm-in-arm but each was carrying several heavy purchases of groceries up towards Bag End. Thorin, once he had lost a little of his gruff countenance, had quickly proved to the Hobbits that he was not so different to them, despite his difference in stature, possession of much more hair, and iron-toed boots.  He had clearly earned their respect with his haggling skills. And she had caught several Hobbit ladies glaring at her, jealous of how attractive her Link was, or perhaps for the insult to Hobbit propriety by the attention he paid her.

Either way, Briony loved it.

“I think you may have some admirers,” Briony said as they walked towards Bag End “I noticed a few of the fauntlings making cow eyes at you when they saw you, and quite a few tweens.”

“I have no desire for any admirer save you,” said Thorin firmly, and Briony blushed. That was the third compliment Thorin had given her today, “I should glare at them more.”

“Glare at who?” Briony asked, sensing that he was not talking about his admirers.

Thorin raised an eyebrow “Several Hobbits were staring at you, in such a way that I have to wonder if you have a reputation.  Perhaps one other than the one you spoke of?”

Briony flushed “Well, several Hobbits thought once I came of age that I would choose to settle down with a husband.  You can imagine how well it went over to the whole of the Shire when I realized I might never see anyone that way if I didn’t meet my Link. My family is…” she paused “Well-off is putting it nicely, so for a time I was the most eligible Hobbit in the Shire.  But only a certain impressive Dwarvish king caught my eye.”

Thorin’s answering smile was just as charming as she remembered, even if it was buried under gruff embarrassment “You need not pay me unnecessary compliments.”

“I will compliment you if I want to, you arrogant Dwarf,” Briony shot back, making him chuckle quietly as they rounded a corner. “I think Briar is sweet on one of ours,” she ventured as they made their way towards the hill.

“Oh?” Thorin raised an eyebrow “Why?”

“She lit up like many of my relatives do when talking about their Links, when I mentioned that we’d be passing through Buckland,” explained Briony. “I don’t know who it is, or was, because,” she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

Right, so they were being overheard.  Likely followed by the Bounders.

Thorin caught on almost immediately “Of course,” he said, “I recall Bofur mentioning a lady he was courting, but none of the others.”

Briony smiled “Bofur would treat her well, and it would explain a lot about,” she paused again, this time seeing someone on her doorstep. When she made out who it was, she sighed, “Oh, dear.  Lobelia’s back, and she does not look happy.”

Her last memories of Lobelia were not fond ones, but she had grown quite apart from the other Hobbit since her departure for Erebor the first time around. It was around that time that Lobelia had married Otho Sackville-Baggins, Briony’s distant cousin.

This Lobelia was not the same as the one Briony remembered. Not with the way she was sitting.

The old Lobelia would never have come to Briony for help. And this one did.

“Lobelia?” Thorin frowned “As in the one you told me about last night; the one who made off with your silver?” he asked.

“Yes, that Lobelia,” said Briony, hoisting her purchases a little higher. “I suppose we had better see what she wants this time.”

Moments later they had arrived at Briony’s front door.  Lobelia was seated on the bench outside, and now that Briony was paying more attention, she realized that Lobelia was sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms around them.  Lobelia’s hair was a mess, tangled with several twigs, sticks, leaves, and several clumps of grass.  Her dress sported several grass stains, and on her left arm, near her wrist, was a bruise in the exact shape and size of a Hobbit’s hand.  Her shoulders were quietly shaking, and there was no disguising the quiet, ragged sobs that were torn from Lobelia’s throat, even muffled through her arms and legs.

The Link widened with a surge of pain and then a white-hot rush of anger, quickly brought under control but still simmering just beneath the surface. Briony turned to her door, doing her best to keep her own anger under control, and unlocked it, pushing it open with her foot.

She handed the shopping to Thorin, switching to the first non-Hobbit language that came to mind “Put it in the kitchen,” she hissed under her breath “I’ll handle this.”

Thorin stopped, glancing between her and the Hobbit, surprise flaring through the Link, “Go, dear heart,” said Briony, nudging his shoulder. “We can talk about this later.  Right now, she needs me.”

Thorin murmured “I will leave you to it then,” he said, leaving her on the doorstep.

Briony moved to sit next to Lobelia, giving her ample space to move away, and cautiously touched her arm.  Otho did not have a reputation as of yet, but that meant little; he’d been in the market as a bachelor for years, but showed little to no interest in most Hobbits until he’d met Lobelia, who for some reason he’d decided would make him a perfect second to Briony, his first choice.

Otho Sackville-Baggins was almost Briony’s age, but he was a shrewd businessman who had made his fortune after taking over his father’s business. He was well-respected in Hobbiton and the rest of the Shire for growing some of the best tomatoes around, and he was widely considered to be an odd, reclusive, and miserly older Hobbit. However, the respect he’d garnered made it much harder to refuse any form of offer from him.

That included the offer of marriage and overtures he’d made to _her_ , in an attempt to wrest control of Bag End from the Took family.  Briony had been so unimpressed with the younger Hobbit she’d ignored him completely at the time.

He’d sworn something to her that day, something she could not recall right now, but she knew not long after that he had gone to make his fortune and sought control of Bag End that way.  Bag End would always remain in the Took family by law, but with Otho’s determination, it really did look like he would take it a few times during her time with Frodo. Last she’d heard, he had actually succeeded, but only for a little while, at the end of the War of the Ring.

Otho had begun courting Lobelia a few months ago, and though Briony didn’t know the whole story, she knew that Lia had been very flattered, receiving his attentions.  Otho would never have been her Link, not with the way the two of them turned out in the future, but Briony wasn’t the Sky Mother so didn’t know if Lia even had a Link in this world. At the same time, she hadn’t had any idea of what could turn Lia from the proud young Hobbit Briony was familiar with into the spiteful old shrew she remembered.

Now, though, she could understand, maybe a little.  The bruise on Lobelia’s arm was _very_ telling, as were the grass stains on her skirt.  Otho had tried something, perhaps something very _similar_ to what he’d done to Briony in his attempts to force her to marry him.  Or maybe worse, since he was more desperate now than before.

“Lobelia?” asked Briony quietly, and Lobelia’s breath hitched. “Lobelia, it’s Briony. Can I see you? Please, Lia?”

**Author's Note:**

> And yeah, that's a wrap for chapter one! Chapter Two is coming, no worries!
> 
> I am using an Irish and Scots Gaelic base for the Windspeech. I'm not going to be writing long sentences in either without giving translations, but a few words may sneak in without becoming intelligible. 
> 
> The slips into Sindarin and other languages these two understand will be in English for us, because we're witnessing these scenes from their perspectives and they understand what's being said well enough for us to understand it. In future chapters, expect unintentional language slips because Thorin and Briony are so familiar with each other, and so in tune with each other that this is automatic and augmented by the Link. However, if they switch languages mid-way through a sentence, then the non-Westron won't be in English. Hopefully that keeps people from getting too confused about what I'm doing.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Khuzdûl:  
> Miz duzkak-My love
> 
> Windspeech:  
> Mac tíre: Wolf (It's actually in Irish Gaelic)


End file.
